It Never Entered My Mind
by lumaluma
Summary: World-renowned detective Alfred F. Jones is on the hunt for a collection of jewels that went missing from a rich London family, but he gets quite a bit more out of questioning a certain bartender than he originally bargained for. Rated for language, adult situations. UsUK.


_After one too many evenings spent watching various film noir classics and listening to jazz, I've been inspired to write a little short story in that sort of setting. And yes, the title of this may just be the title of a classic jazz tune. _

_Oh yeah, beware of adult language and situations._

_If you're reading this to music, I'd suggest some slow jazz, maybe a bit of blues._

* * *

London, 1949.

It was a cold, rainy November evening as private eye Alfred F. Jones flipped through the papers of his briefcase in the back of a London taxicab. He was headed to one of the most expensive, prestigious hotels in the whole city, following a lead for his latest case. Small-time work for him, the New York native who was used to tracking down mafia hideouts and assassins who were after his clients' skins. No, this work wasn't dangerous at all, not compared to what he was used to. It was just some old rich family whose priceless jewel collection had gone missing – stolen, obviously – while they were away on holiday.

A truly boring case, considering he had much better things to do, much more interesting cases he could be working on, but they were paying handsomely and Alfred wasn't about to turn down an all-expenses-paid trip to England. Besides, this case would help keep up his reputation—he hadn't messed up a single case in months, and this would help keep his success streak going a little while longer. No, he didn't really mind at all.

Alfred slipped the papers into an inconspicuous manila folder, looked out the window of the car, and sighed, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. Traffic was horrible in the city at this time of day, but with the information he was carrying, he couldn't take the Underground. Too risky if someone was following him.

When the taxi finally pulled up in front of the hotel, Alfred thanked the driver, tipped him, and stepped out into the cold, wet air. The wind nearly blew his hat off his head as he shoved the folder back into his briefcase, but he managed to pull the brim of his fedora down and hurried into the hotel. When the porter opened the door for him, he was greeted by a blast of warm, dry air, and he sighed happily.

There were only a few people in the lobby, but they all watched him walk over to the coat check, peering over the tops of their magazines and newspapers or taking a break from smoking their cigarettes. Alfred dropped off his overcoat and briefcase, winking at the coat check girl and whispering, "Don't drop it now, sweetheart. There're some super important papers in there."

She just nodded, blushing a little, and hurried to put his belongings away. Alfred straightened his tie, brushed a bit of lint off of his suit jacket lapel, and smirked to himself. Women were so easily swayed by a wink and a smile. They were easy to work with, too. One compliment and they'd spill their deepest, darkest secrets to him.

He slipped into the lounge, tipping his hat back on his head and looking around. His lead was supposed to be somewhere in here, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary at first glance. Just a jazz quintet up on the stage, playing that kind of sensual music that makes you bite your lip and lower your eyelids a little, it's just that sexy. The people in the lounge seemed fairly normal as well, the usual crowd of wealthy businessmen and their wives, upper-class bachelors looking for a lay, and rich girls out for a night on the town.

Many eyes landed on him as soon as he entered the room, mostly women. He recognized the look in their eyes, the look he had seen in hundreds of women's eyes over the years. Desire, awe, and maybe a little bit of desperation. Girls barely old enough to wear makeup gave him those looks, as did old hags who caked on makeup like it was the pure essence of youth.

And who could blame them? Alfred knew damn well he was good-looking. Tall, well-built, well-dressed, and had, as a cutthroat vixen he had tracked down for a series of murders once put it, 'a devilishly handsome smile and sky-blue eyes that promise everything from the most excruciating pleasure to the most amazing pain.' He captured women's eyes and hearts in an instant. No wonder the men in the lounge were glaring at him so, he was likely very much reducing their chances of success with the ladies.

Alfred wasn't after any of these women, though, and he was used to all of this, so he looked around a little more. His eyes landed on the bar, where the bartender was watching him with piercing green eyes visible even in the dim, red-tinted light of the lounge. He wasn't dressed in standard uniform either, and from what Alfred could see, he was just wearing a plain button-down shirt and slacks.

Now _that_ wasn't what he usually got in places like this. Alfred sidled over, taking off his hat and setting it on the bar as he sat down. The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, so Alfred loosened his tie and ordered something to drink.

"Gimme a scotch. The best you've got. And one ice cube, please. It lets out the flavor so much better that way." He winked at a woman down the bar who blushed, tucked her hair behind her ear, and looked away. Good. Now no one was really watching him.

The bartender slid a glass across the bar, and Alfred scooped it up, tilting it and smelling the liquor inside. Okay, maybe he really didn't know his booze all that well, but he could at least pretend he did. Being a detective let him put his acting skills to work, and it was part of the job he really liked. So he tipped the glass towards the bartender, saying, "To your health!" before taking a gulp. He put it down and licked his lips. "Great stuff."

The bartender smiled, and his smile was small, almost smirk-like in his sharp, angular face. "Thank you." He picked a towel up off the bar and polished a few glasses, keeping his eyes on Alfred the whole time. Alfred raised his eyebrows at the other man as he took another sip of his scotch, as if to ask him why he was looking at him so. The bartender shrugged, a little flippantly, and put down the towel. "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

Alfred smiled a little, brushing a lock of hair out of his face and murmuring, "A little bit of both, if you know what I mean."

How Alfred talked to the bartender hinged entirely on the other man's reaction to how he said that. When the bartender just raised an eyebrow and smirked again, his eyelids lowering a little, Alfred felt relieved. The other man leaned forward a little, whispering, "Oh, I think I know exactly what you mean." His voice was a pleasant tenor, so smooth, his accent just rolling off his tongue in such a relaxed way that it only made him all the more appealing.

Alfred smiled to himself. So he had read this man properly after all. And maybe it was just the whole atmosphere of the lounge, the sensual music, dim lighting, and obvious sexual tension between many of the patrons, but the bartender seemed to be playing a game with him. A sly, seductive kind of game that many women would try and fail to catch his attention with, but a game that a man like the bartender could easily ensnare Alfred with.

He decided to play along, more than a little interested in what could come from this conversation. Alfred leaned on his hand and looked up at the bartender from under his eyelashes. "You got a name?"

"Arthur. You?"

"Alfred. But you can call me Al."

"Whatever you like, Al."

They exchanged a glance then, one that showed they understood each other perfectly, even if the other people in the lounge would only see a man sitting alone at the bar, likely drowning his sorrows in the drink and sharing his story with the bartender. Really, what they were doing was the exact opposite. But still, Alfred had to remember the reason he was here in the first place.

He decided he could likely get a little information out of this man, and very easily at that. "You work here often?"

"Every night. You're a new face around here."

"So there are regulars?"

"Many of the businessmen come here in the evening to play cards together. We have quite a few musicians who come here regularly as well."

Well, now Alfred had a few other people to suspect. He had been tipped off that the thief (or thieves, but he didn't have any evidence that more than one person was responsible for the theft) was most likely one of the employees in this lounge, and now that this Arthur character had admitted to being a regular employee… he had a good reason to stick around and chat.

That and he was damn good-looking, with a sort of intriguing charm Alfred couldn't quite figure out. Was it his devil-may-care tousled hair, that easy, confident way he held himself, or that teasing little gleam in his eyes? Alfred was more than willing to wait and find out. So he drained his scotch and pushed the glass towards Arthur.

"Say Arthur, how about you get me a rum and coke?"

"Of course. You have a bit of a sweet tooth, I suppose?" Arthur filled and passed him another glass, not letting his eyes stray from Alfred once, and Alfred could feel himself smirk involuntarily.

"I suppose you could say that. Hey, you allowed to drink on the job?"

"Not normally, no. But I'm sure my boss wouldn't find out if I did every once in a while."

"Have a drink with me." It wasn't a question, and Alfred didn't mean for it to be one, either. When Arthur raised his eyebrows at him, Alfred shrugged. "I'll pay for it, of course."

"How generous of you." Arthur smiled and poured himself a small glass of bourbon. He took a little sip, catching a stray droplet on the rim of the glass with his tongue. Alfred narrowed his eyes a bit. Fucking tease.

This was proving to be a much more enjoyable investigation than he thought it would. He decided to ask a few more questions without being too obvious, but in a way that could still get him useful information. He gestured up to the stage, asking, "These guys the only musicians of the night?"

"No, there's usually a lounge singer who shows up around ten. If you can stay that long, I'd definitely recommend listening to her sing."

"She's good?"

"Quite. One of the reasons I don't mind working the night shift is because of the music."

"Oh, you're a jazz fan?" When Arthur nodded, Alfred smiled. "I gotta say, you don't really seem the type. But hey, I am too. You'd love New York. The jazz clubs there are something else."

"So I've heard. Are you from around there?"

"Yeah." Alfred sipped his drink. "I'm a Brooklyn native and proud." He didn't feel like coming up with a fake backstory, so he just told Arthur the truth. "What about you? Are you from London?"

Arthur nodded. "Born and raised in the city."

"Makes you pretty streetwise, doesn't it?"

"Indeed it does." Arthur took another sip of his bourbon, and then set it down on the bar with a soft clink. "You learn a lot more from a place like this then you do from a country town. Some people call it corruption, but I prefer to think of it as… _experience_."

His voice dropped then, slipping into a sultry tone that reminded Alfred of why he loved British accents. Sure, they sounded pompous and uptight sometimes, but get an Englishman riled up a bit and his accent would pick up a bit of an edge, a roughness that was pure, sinfully delicious music to the ears.

Alfred barely remembered to add 'look into questioning lounge singer later' to his mental checklist, too busy trying to convey to Arthur just with his eyes that he would rip his clothes off and fuck him on the bar if he could. Arthur seemed to understand, his eyes simmering with a mix of desire, amusement, and curiosity.

They chatted for a while longer about nothing in particular, just flirting a bit, and eventually Alfred cast a quick glance at his watch. 9:57. Hopefully that lounge singer would show up soon enough. He was getting a little impatient, just a little bit tired of waiting until he could drag that goddamn infuriating flirtatious bastard of a bartender somewhere and tear his clothes off.

Thankfully, she soon sidled onto the stage, a petite woman, all glittering fabric and jewelry, red lipstick drawing the eye to a small, curved mouth. Her dress shimmered when she walked, and she smiled at batted her eyelashes at the people in the lounge, but Alfred didn't notice or care. He was too busy eyeing the rather large, expensive-looking ring on her right hand and her long, diamond encrusted earrings.

Those looked an awful lot like just a couple of the stolen pieces he was supposed to recover, but he couldn't exactly run to the coat check to get the pictures from his briefcase. Not only would that completely blow his cover, but it would definitely ruin any chance of getting into Arthur's bed. So he just narrowed his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose.

The woman leaned close to her microphone. "How's everyone doing tonight?" There was a brief smattering of applause, during which Alfred placed her accent. American, either Connecticut or Rhode Island. The woman smiled. "It's nice to be here. Now, this first little ditty is from the hit Broadway musical Anything Goes, and it's called I Get a Kick out Of You." She nodded at the pianist, who started a slow, slightly melancholic intro. She began crooning into the microphone, and Alfred raised his eyebrows. For a girl of her stature, her voice had impressive body. Maybe Arthur wasn't just being a flirt when he suggested Alfred stay late, she was actually quite good.

Alfred listened for a couple minutes, decided he'd be much better off getting ahold of her the next day, and turned back around to talk to Arthur. The bartender was leaning on the bar now, watching the woman sing with a mildly amused expression on his face. Alfred hadn't noticed earlier, but the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing his collarbone and the very top of his chest. Alfred tried looking away, decided the lounge singer's cleavage was nowhere near as nice of a view, and looked back at Arthur.

Their eyes met at the exact same moment, and both men smirked. Arthur picked up his drink and swirled it around in the glass, looking at Alfred expectantly. The detective cast one last glance at the woman singing.

"She's pretty good. Especially for a white chick."

Arthur laughed quietly, a surprisingly bright chuckle. "I know. We used to have one woman who could belt it out like no other, but she moved on to bigger, better things, of course."

"And you haven't?"

Arthur shrugged carelessly. "This is only a night job for me. For all you know, I'm a successful stock trader with a hobby for mixing drinks or a doctor who doesn't want to go home to his wife."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I'm calling bullshit on the second one."

"Oh?"

"No wedding ring. You don't have a callus or tan line from where the ring would be, either."

Arthur smirked. "Very good. I'm not married. Not even close. But how could you guess that so well?"

Alfred tried to look nonchalant, his mind working furiously to come up with something that wouldn't involve him revealing his occupation. Arthur _could_ be in on the jewel heist, after all, however unlikely it seemed. Alfred was usually right about people, and he didn't act like a thief.

"I'm an artist," he said calmly. "I paint a lot of portraits, so I'm used to finding little details about people."

Arthur smiled, tilting his head a little. "Planning on painting me?"

"I don't know, could you afford it?"

Arthur chuckled again, this time a little darker, a little more deviously. "I'm sure I could find _some_ way to pay you the appropriate price."

And if that wasn't a blatant come-on, then Alfred didn't know what was. But still, there was something in the other man's eyes that made him curious. Sure, he was looking at Alfred with obvious flirtatious intentions, but there was something that made him wonder: could Arthur actually know something about this?

There was only one way to find out: prying it out of him. And there were two easy ways of doing that. He could either get Arthur completely drunk so he'd say anything, or he could ask questions in the fuzzy, drowsy afterglow of sex, when someone even as sharp as Arthur wouldn't be able to think quite straight. The latter sounded much better to him, and he was sure Arthur wanted it just as badly as he did, so Alfred finished off his rum and coke and put the glass back on the bar. "Two questions."

"Fire away."

"First, could you get me a glass of water, and second, when do you get off tonight?"

Arthur took his glass and rinsed it, filling it with water and passing it back across the bar. "That should answer your first question. To answer your second, my shift ends at one-thirty, but after that…" Arthur leaned in, his voice picking up that roughness again as he murmured, "When exactly I get off depends on where you want to go and how good you are, if you catch my drift."

Alfred, not wanting to be outdone, smirked and lowered his own voice a little. "I think I know exactly what you mean. But I do have just one more question…" Arthur just raised an eyebrow, so Alfred continued, "Do you think you can handle it?"

They locked eyes again, and when Arthur seemed satisfied with what he saw there, he shrugged. "Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there? If you really want this, go wait for me in the lobby around one. We can head to my room when I'm done here, if you like."

"Your room?"

"Well, my flat, really. I live on the apartment on the very top floor of this building."

Alfred blinked a few times, his brain processing that information. "You're telling me you _own_ this place?" he whispered it, looking around in case anyone was listening in.

Arthur shrugged. "Well, yes. I did say this was only a night job, didn't I?"

"True, but I wasn't thinking your day job would be anything like that." Damn. Arthur was a powerful guy. And as much as Alfred hated to admit it to himself, that only made him all the more sexy. And now they really wouldn't have far to go.

So at one 'o'clock, he paid his tab, winked at Arthur, put his hat back on, and went to wait for him in the lobby. He got his coat and briefcase from the night staff and sat down in an armchair with a copy of the evening news, pretending to read it. He still wasn't exactly sure what to think of Arthur, but he knew he should at least watch himself around the other man, just in case anything happened. He felt extremely impatient.

For what was supposed to be just a night of scouting out the place, Alfred felt that he had done quite well. A good lead with that lounge singer, that woman was definitely on the suspect list now. Besides, if he could get anything vaguely useful out of Arthur, it'd be far better than he was hoping for. He hadn't expected to find anything important that night, anyways.

The time passed more quickly than he expected, and soon Arthur was in front of his chair, clearing his throat. Alfred tipped the top of the paper down, saw it was Arthur, and promptly tossed it aside, anticipation forming a knot in his chest.

The Englishman raised an eyebrow at him. "Ready to go?"

"Ready." Alfred picked up his briefcase and coat, which Arthur regarded suspiciously.

"A briefcase? Isn't that a little formal for an artist?"

Shit. Alfred had completely forgotten about that, but he quickly saved himself. "A guy's gotta keep his records organized, right? I can't have my commissions just lying around in my studio."

"Studio?" Arthur pressed a button to call the elevator.

"Well, the room of my apartment I call my studio. It's really just a regular room with canvases and sketchbooks on the floor."

"Ah, I see."

The elevator arrived, and as soon as he had pressed the button for the top floor and the doors had closed behind them, Arthur practically jumped on Alfred. The detective very nearly pulled his gun out of his briefcase before he realized Arthur wasn't attacking him—well, not out of anger. Instead of a punch to the jaw and an elbow jab to the kidneys, he had a pair of lips on his neck and a knee pushed in between his legs and rubbing against his groin.

Most guys weren't this aggressive with him, but then again, most guys weren't millionaire hotel owners that worked the night shift in the lounge on the ground floor just for fun. So Alfred dropped his coat and briefcase, pulling Arthur up and kissing him full on the lips. Luckily, it was late enough that no one else in the hotel seemed to be up and about, and the elevator doors only opened when they reached the top floor.

They pulled apart and Arthur smiled, turning around and walking out of the elevator, glancing back over his shoulder and beckoning Alfred with a single finger. Alfred gathered up his belongings and followed, entranced by the way Arthur moved when he walked, so smoothly and effortlessly that he seemed to be almost walking on air. Whether or not it was a way of getting Alfred's attention, he wasn't sure, but it was sure as hell distracting.

Arthur pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door in one fluid motion, grabbing Alfred by the tie with his free hand and pulling him into a kiss as soon as he shut the door behind them. Alfred tossed his stuff to the floor, placing his hands on Arthur's hips. He wasn't sure how the other man expected this to go down, but he knew he wanted to be in charge. After all, Arthur was still a possible suspect, and Alfred wanted to maintain as much control as he could until he was sure it was safe. Who knew what Arthur was really like? He could be a devil behind that angelic face of his. So Alfred pushed his tongue into Arthur's mouth, letting one of his hands slide down and grope the Englishman's ass.

Arthur just laughed quietly against Alfred's lips and reached up, taking Alfred's hat off and dropping it on the floor before putting his arms around the detective's neck and groaning quietly, his tongue swirling around Alfred's teasingly. His fingers curled into the hair at the nape of Alfred's neck, pulling him closer, and Alfred moved his hips forward slightly, brushing their groins together.

Arthur pulled back with a quiet gasp, his lips already kiss-swollen and his eyes half-lidded. "Bedroom," he murmured. It wasn't a question. If anything, it was a demand. Alfred was fine with that.

He followed Arthur, smiling to himself when the other man unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the floor in the hallway, revealing the flawlessly smooth skin of his back, and slipped off his shoes as he walked. Alfred took his suit jacket off and dropped it, loosened his tie more, and kicked his shoes off, hardly bothering to look around the apartment. He wasn't investigating this part of the hotel, after all. The only thing in the apartment he wanted to investigate was Arthur (if in a rather unconventional way), and wandering around the place wouldn't help him with that.

Once they were in the bedroom, Arthur pulled all the curtains shut and flicked on a couple lamps. Alfred saw a king-sized bed in the middle of the room and smiled approvingly. He started unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off and raising an eyebrow when Arthur came over and undid his belt, unzipping Alfred's pants and slipping a hand inside. Arthur raised an eyebrow right back, and then they were kissing again, pulling each other's pants and underpants down and falling onto the bed together, hands tangling in each other's hair and hardening cocks rubbing together. Arthur wrapped his legs around Alfred's waist and he ground his hips up slowly, rubbing himself against Alfred.

The detective growled low in his throat, nipping at Arthur's collarbone before moving down and taking a nipple into his mouth. Arthur gasped a little, pushing Alfred's head down into his chest, and Alfred swirled his tongue around Arthur's nipple before moving to the other, grazing it lightly with his teeth and teasing the other with his fingers until both pink peaks were hard and Arthur was squirming underneath him, letting out the most irresistible little moans.

Alfred lifted his head up a bit to murmur, "Where's your stuff?"

He hoped it would be nearby, since at the rate this was going, he wouldn't mind just using spit to make it smoother. Luckily, Arthur just reached into his bedside table, pulling out a small jar and taking off the lid. "Do it quickly. I'm not feeling patient tonight."

"Heh, me either."

But when Arthur spread his legs for Alfred, the detective paused, suddenly struck by an idea. He moved down, spreading Arthur's ass and taking in the view. The Englishman rolled his eyes impatiently. "You can admire me later. Right now, just hurry up and fuck me or—ah!"

Alfred dipped his head down and ran his tongue over Arthur's opening, eliciting a quiet gasp from him. Normally he wouldn't bother going this far to please whoever he was with, whether it was just for fun or for information, but he wasn't just going through the motions this time. This was something else entirely. Something about Arthur made Alfred want to know exactly what that beautiful face looked like when Arthur's brain was overloading with ecstasy… Alfred just couldn't quite figure out what it was.

He swirled his tongue around, watching a myriad of emotions flicker over Arthur's face: surprise, confusion, realization, and then pleasure. Alfred smiled to himself, spreading Arthur open with his fingers and plunging his tongue deep inside. He heard Arthur groan, and one of the other man's hands slid into his hair as Alfred thrust his tongue in and out, loving the way Arthur scrunched up his eyebrows as he stroked him gently with his tongue. He knew damn well it was pure teasing compared to how much better his cock would be, but it was just too much fun.

Arthur whined a little, squirming at the feeling of Alfred's tongue inside of him, obviously getting impatient. Alfred lifted his head up only to have Arthur pull him up and kiss him, essentially just shoving his tongue into the detective's mouth. Alfred felt his own cock twitch slightly as it pressed against Arthur's leg, but he ignored it, instead running his hands over Arthur's hips.

Alfred moaned when one of Arthur's hands grabbed his member and slicked it up, reminding him of his own arousal and squeezing just a little too pleasurably for it to be accidental. Arthur's fingers danced around the head of his erection, light, teasing little touches that reminded Alfred of how desperate he really was for this, especially when Arthur's hand left his cock to slide a finger into himself.

This Englishman bit his lip and wiggled his hips, drawing Alfred's attention to the perfect 'v' of his iliac crest, how his hipbones jutted up so perfectly. Alfred wanted to just park his head down there and mark him up, make those hips his and his alone. But no, he couldn't do that when they were both so needy, so impatient.

Their eyes met and Arthur let out a little groan. Alfred was almost certain he made a similar sound, but before he could dwell on that, Arthur's free hand grabbed his wrist and moved it down. Alfred thought Arthur wanted him to jerk him off, but Arthur shook his head when Alfred tried to grip his cock.

"No, I want you to help me get ready for you," Arthur whispered. Alfred nodded, reaching for the jar Arthur had set on the bed and slicking up a couple fingers. He slid one in alongside Arthur's finger, and the Englishman moved his hips down, taking Alfred's finger as deep as he could and moaning quietly. "Come on now, don't take all night!" Alfred moved his finger around a little, smiling to himself when Arthur shivered and squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a quiet moan. "O-oh… right there…"

"What, here?" Alfred rubbed over that spot over and over, loving the way Arthur clenched the bedsheets in his fist, and how his walls pulsed around Alfred's finger. He pushed another finger in, spreading them a little, oddly entranced by the intimacy of his and Arthur's fingers rubbing together. It wasn't something he was used to, that was for sure.

He pulled his fingers out suddenly and threw Arthur's legs all the way open. This was starting to feel far too emotional for a one-night thing. Arthur pulled his own finger out and raised an eyebrow at Alfred. "Are you going to fuck me or not?"

In answer, Alfred guided himself so the tip of his erection pressed against Arthur's entrance, then put his hands on the Englishman's thighs, keeping him spread open as much as possible. "That answer your question?"

He didn't wait for a reply, just pushing himself inside slowly, engulfing himself in that warmth and tightness. One of Arthur's hands wrapped around his own cock, pumping himself gently to ease the slight discomfort of penetration, and Alfred waited until he got a nod from Arthur before moving, starting a fast, harsh pace that had Arthur moaning from the first thrust. It felt so good; better than anything Alfred had felt in a very long time.

Arthur's other hand moved down to where they were connected, running along the outer edge of his entrance and the exposed part of Alfred's cock. Alfred decided that if he still had the presence of mind to do that, then he wasn't being fucked nearly hard enough. He moved faster, deeper, driving himself into Arthur as far as he could and satisfying his urge to pound into the Englishman as hard as possible.

Arthur's eyelids fluttered, like he was having a hard time just keeping his eyes open, and his cock dripped pearly white fluid that he spread over his erection with the tip of his thumb as he fisted himself. Alfred wanted to kiss him, but at the same time, he wanted to see just what Arthur looked like when he came, so he resisted. He didn't want to miss that.

Instead, he spread Arthur's legs even further and thrust even harder, wishing he could just keep going forever, that he wasn't close as he knew he was, that he and Arthur could just keep going all night. But no, his cock was throbbing inside Arthur, feeling harder and closer to bursting every second. And if that squeezing Alfred felt around his erection was any indication, if the short, panting breaths Arthur was taking meant what he thought they did, then the other man was very close as well.

He tried his very best to go harder, deeper, faster, and then Arthur was arching his back and moaning, coming in long, hot bursts that spilled over them both, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a long, low cry of Alfred's name. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair was even more mussed up than before, but Alfred didn't think he could be any more beautiful than that.

Alfred couldn't hold on, couldn't hold himself back any longer, especially not when Arthur's legs wrapped around him and pulled him as deep as he could go. He let go and the pure pleasure that washed over him felt like heaven. It seemed to go on forever, just the sheer amount of cum filling Arthur. He felt it start to leak out around his softening cock, the warm wetness making him bite his lip and try to stop himself from moaning, he was already so hypersensitive.

Arthur kept him inside as they lay there, their breathing going from short, sharp bursts to longer, calmer, sighing breaths. Arthur's hands tangled in Alfred's hair, pulling him down into a kiss. Alfred kissed back, his hands landing on Arthur's hips and rubbing up and down. Arthur pulled back with a quiet moan.

"Nnh… don't. If you do that, I'll have to go again. I just know it."

Alfred paused, staring down into Arthur's face, realizing he wasn't the only one who felt that incredible, all-consuming lust. Since they got into the elevator, this hadn't felt like a typical one-night stand, and now it was feeling even stranger than before. It worried Alfred, and he could tell from the look on Arthur's face that the other man wasn't used to this either. He tried to pull out of Arthur and get up, planning to get dressed and leave so he could go somewhere and sort out his thoughts, maybe figure out what the hell was going on.

He was stopped when Arthur's legs kept him in place, locking around him tighter. It was Alfred's turn to groan softly, doing everything he could to stop either of them from moving. He had just finished, but he was close to getting hard again already. So he flopped down on top of Arthur with a sigh.

"And you'd better stop doing that unless you _really_ want to go another round."

"What, this?" Arthur wiggled his hips, a devious smirk on his face, and Alfred growled, nipping his neck.

"Yes, that."

Unless Arthur was ready for another round, one that would pound him straight through the mattress, he would definitely have to stop being so damn sexy. But Arthur just ran his hands over Alfred's shoulders and slid them down to his chest to toy with his nipples.

Alfred closed his eyes, pressing his face into Arthur's neck and murmuring against the skin, "Fucking tease."

"It's only teasing if you don't let it go any further." Arthur moved his hips again, drawing attention to the fact that Alfred was getting hard again. "Looks like we both want more."

Alfred slid a hand down Arthur's stomach, smiling at the wet, sticky fluid his fingers trailed through. He raised an eyebrow when his hand brushed Arthur's member, which was already jutting up, fully hard and ready for more. He wrapped a hand around it; pumping gently and watching Arthur's eyelids flutter a little. That made the blood rush back to his cock, and he let his eyes slip shut for a second.

"You ready?" he asked, hoping the answer would be yes. He wasn't disappointed.

"Yes. I've never been more ready."

Alfred smirked, pushing himself up onto his knees and pulling Arthur's legs over his shoulders. He started rocking into him slowly, waiting for Arthur to loosen up a little again, loving how wet and hot he was inside, his cum from the previous round making it extremely slick and wonderful. He was a little curious though; wondering exactly how much was in there. Alfred slipped a finger in alongside his cock, smirking when Arthur's eyes widened.

"What are you…?"

"Wait and see." He moved his finger around, pushing it in deeper with each thrust of his hips, moving it exactly in time. Arthur bit his lip and moved his hips down, thrusting himself back onto Alfred. When Alfred stroked Arthur's sweet spot and saw the pleasure wash over his face, felt his muscles spasm around his cock, he very nearly moaned out loud.

Damn, he was just too gorgeous like that. It made him pulse with need, made him want to mark Arthur up from head to toe, made him want to be the only one who saw that face. He pulled his finger out so he could move easier, and when he saw it was coated with semen, he smirked. At least Arthur was marked on the inside.

Arthur moaned, bucking back against Alfred again. "Please, just give it to me already!"

Alfred grabbed Arthur's hips and starting thrusting slow and deep, brushing against Arthur's sweet spot with each thrust. The heat, the soft, wet, tight feeling around his cock, the look in Arthur's eyes, it all drove him crazy, made him want more.

Arthur's hands landed on his shoulders, squeezing slightly and he moaned, tossing his head back, his breath hitching with every move Alfred made. "Please… faster."

His voice was so needy, so hungry, so husky, and Alfred couldn't deny him. He moved faster, pleasure starting to override his mind, so he didn't even know what he was saying. "You can't get enough of this, can you?"

Arthur could barely speak, his voice catching in his throat and his accent so, so rough. "You… you know damn well what it's like—ah!"

"I can't wait to fill you up again. I wanna have it pour out of you when I pull out."

"You mean if I let you p-pull out."

Alfred realized right then that Arthur was just as desperate to keep him inside as Alfred was to be inside him. And _fuck_, if that wasn't even more of a turn-on.

Arthur's head flopped back onto the bed, his hands sliding from Alfred's shoulders to grip his arms instead. "Fuck… it's too good. I can't…" he trailed off, descending into moans.

His voice was just so damn sexy like that… Alfred could feel himself drawing closer and closer to the edge. It was too much, too good, and he was _so _close to bursting.

Then Arthur's nails dug into his biceps, and the sudden sting pushed him over, and he was thrusting as deep as he could as he could and coming, coming, coming…

Arthur's eyes shot open and he cried out loudly, spurts of white spilling over them both. Alfred's hips slowed with each shot of cum that flowed into Arthur, and he felt content and exhausted. Arthur pulled the detective down on top of him, and Alfred felt both of their hearts pounding, just starting to slow down after the exquisite rush of pleasure.

He gasped for breath, his head resting in the crook of Arthur's neck, feeling the other man's hand come up to run through his hair. Arthur was breathing heavily, but he managed to choke out, "That was…"

"I know." Alfred tried to push himself up so he wasn't squishing Arthur so much, but his arms seemed to have lost all of their strength and he gave up and resigned himself to lying there and letting Arthur's hand stroke his slightly sweat-dampened hair. It was actually kind of nice, even. Not what he was used to after a romp like that, but he wasn't exactly used to romps like that either. The air smelled like sweat and sex, but he really couldn't have cared less.

Arthur took off Alfred's glasses, setting them on the bedside table. "Stay here with me tonight."

"Okay." Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's torso, barely noticing that he was snuggling up against the other man until Arthur chuckled.

"Cuddly, are we?"

"Maybe. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"Not in the least." Arthur shifted, making himself more comfortable, and they both froze when they felt Alfred slip out. Arthur sighed, and though Alfred couldn't quite see his face, he could tell the other man was rolling his eyes. "Well, I have a feeling that the maids are going to be more than a little disgusted tomorrow."

"No kidding." Alfred moved a hand down, and when he felt how much had already leaked out of Arthur, his eyebrows went up. "Holy shit, that's a lot."

"I don't mind." Arthur pulled him up into a kiss. "I enjoy the feeling, after all. It's worth the extra time spent in the shower cleaning up."

Alfred laughed a little. "I just wish I could see it. But I gotta say, the view up here isn't so bad, either." He winked at Arthur, who rolled his eyes again.

"Artists. You're all just a bunch of perverts, aren't you?"

"Hey, at least I'll admit it."

Arthur chuckled again, shoving Alfred off him and rolling onto his side, hitching a leg over Alfred's hip. "What, do you like the job because you get to paint nudes?"

"I don't paint them all that often, actually, but when I do…" Alfred shrugged. "They gotta be perfect. The right setting, the right lighting, the right pose, all that jazz."

Maybe he was just a little proud of his lying skills, his ability to come up with things on the fly like that. Well, it was part of his job, and he was very good at his job.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh really?"

"Yep."

"Well then, how would you paint me?"

Alfred looked him up and down, more than happy for another excuse to ogle him, pretending to think for a moment. "Definitely on a bed. Mid-afternoon, natural light. Nothing too crude, 'course. And no props either, you know, like fruit or jewelry. It'd be something classy—well, as classy as nude can get. Not exactly something you hang up in the living room, but not something you hide in the closet either."

Arthur shrugged. "Better than I was hoping for. And here I was worried you'd imagine me covered in gaudy, sparkly things. Positively vile, if you ask me."

Alfred shook his head. "Nah, that'd be more like that lady who was singing tonight."

Arthur yawned, stretching his arms over his head. "She's been dressing up quite a bit these past few months. I'd say she either has herself a nice, rich beau, or she got herself quite a bit of extra money lately. Some of those jewels look like they'd cost a pretty penny."

Well, that was exactly the time frame during which the jewels Alfred was looking for had been nabbed. He did a few mental calculations, decided that either the lounge singer or her romantic partner (if she had one, that is) was responsible for the theft, and decided to arrest her for possession of stolen property the next day.

He snuggled closer to Arthur, since there was no sense in doing anything about it at this time of night. Besides, the woman would likely be there the next night. Yes, this evening had proved most pleasant and productive. Alfred decided he liked London quite a bit.

…

So, the next day, after a surprisingly non-awkward morning after, Alfred went back to his hotel and informed the police force he was working with that he'd be performing an arrest that evening, and gave them the name and address of the hotel. He could probably catch the lounge singer at her place, but he didn't want to go to the trouble of finding out her name and where she lived. That and he wasn't going to pass up a chance to see Arthur again. Just something about that man…

Anyways, he went back to the lounge that evening, feeling even more relaxed and confident than he had the night before. Some people got nervous and fidgety near the end of a case, but not him. Alfred enjoyed the feeling of having everything figured out, knowing exactly what was going on. He arrived at the hotel a little later than the previous night, since he knew when the woman was going to show up.

Alfred went straight to the bar, smiling to himself when he recognized the blond head of hair behind the bar. Arthur was putting something away on the counter behind him, and when he turned around and saw Alfred, he looked pleasantly surprised.

Alfred grinned lazily at him. "Hey there."

"Good evening, Al. I must admit, I wasn't expecting to see you around here again." All the better, he actually remembered Alfred's name. "So, what can I get you tonight?"

"Gimme a coffee. Blacker than a moonless night."

Arthur smiled slyly. "Only coffee? You must have some serious business to take care of tonight."

"You could say that." Alfred leaned on the bar. "I've got someone I need to talk to about a few kind of personal issues."

"So you came here?"

Alfred shrugged. "I know I can find her here for sure."

"Her? Must not be a romance problem, then."

"Definitely not. It's strictly business." Alfred met Arthur's gaze steadily, and the Englishman shrugged.

"All right then. A pity, I was secretly hoping you were here just for me."

"Well, that's a part of it, darling." Alfred winked, secretly pleased when Arthur returned the gesture and leaned on the bar.

"So, may I enquire what this business is all about?"

"Sorry, it's confidential."

Arthur didn't look disappointed, just shrugging. "Suit yourself."

He stood up straight and started polishing glasses, and Alfred couldn't help but feel a little bit uneasy. Sure, he barely knew the guy, but he didn't like putting on airs or being dishonest around him. He shook it off, noticing that the lounge singer was finally there, wearing more of the stolen jewelry. He chatted with Arthur a little while longer, drinking his coffee, until she had finished for the night and walked offstage.

Alfred stood up then, saying a quick goodbye to Arthur and going after her. That's was what he was there for, after all, catching a thief. Nothing more. He caught her just as she was leaving by a back door, clearing his throat and calling after her, "Excuse me, miss, I was wondering, could I ask you a couple questions?"

She turned around, looked Alfred up and down, and smiled. "Why certainly, handsome. How may I help you?"

"Well, first things first, what's your name?"

"Penny. Penny Cameron."

Probably an alias—Alfred figured she knew someone was on her trail, and he definitely wasn't going to take any chances with this woman. She didn't look very dangerous, but looks could be deceiving, so he went along with it, trying to sound like an earnest fan. "Okay, Miss Penny, I've been coming here for a couple nights, and I gotta say, you can really belt it out. Could I maybe… you know… get an autograph?"

She blushed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Why, thank you. And yes, of course."

Alfred pulled a notebook and a pen out of his pocket, smiling at her when she signed it. "Thank you, miss, really. I mean it. I also wanted to ask you, where'd you get that necklace? I'm hoping to find something sorta like that for my sweetie. It seems like the kind of thing she'd really love."

She played with the necklace a little, then shrugged. "It's an old piece, really. I got it from my grandma after she died. It was really sad, since we were very close, but I'm glad I have this left of her."

"Mind if I have a look?"

"Of course not." She took it off and handed it to Alfred, who inspected it quickly. Yes, this was definitely what he was looking for. He passed it back to her.

"Thank you, Miss Penny. Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Sure, go right ahead."

"Your grandma must've come from a rich family to have a necklace like that. What was her name?"

"Hm? Oh, yes." She froze, obviously thinking. "Well, it was… Rose. Rose Phillips."

Alfred smirked. That was all the evidence he needed. "I'm sure." He shook his head and sighed. "Well, Miss Penny, if that is your real name, I'm arresting you on the charge of possessing stolen property, and under suspicion of theft."

"What?"

Alfred pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his jacket pocket, letting his voice drop back into its normal tone. "Surprise, I'm a detective. Now, you can come along nice and easy, or I can call my buddies. There's a whole squad of police waiting for you outside, and I'll warn you, they're more than a little trigger-happy."

She held out her wrists with a sigh. "I'll go quietly." She glared at Alfred. "How'd you know?"

"One, I recognized the jewelry you were wearing tonight and last night. Two, no one talks about a loved one who's passed on and says 'died'. Three, you couldn't remember your grandmother's name off the top of your head, and you said you were very close. If you're gonna lie, at least do it convincingly."

He led her in handcuffs out of the hotel, much to the surprise of everyone in the lobby, and towards a police car, nodding at the police chief. "Got 'er."

"Well done, Jones. Are you coming down to the station with us?"

"Nah, I've got a bit of business to take care of here. It's just routine stuff you're doing tonight, right?"

The chief shrugged. "True. Just drop by tomorrow, and we'll see if we can wrap this whole thing up. And don't worry about recovering the rest of the jewels, I'll send a team out to take care of that."

"Thanks." Alfred went back inside to get his things. He was just putting on his hat and coat, ready to leave, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Some artist you are."

He jumped, looking over his shoulder to see Arthur leaning against a wall. The Englishman was inspecting his nails, barely bothering to even look at Alfred. The detective shrugged. "Yeah, well… a guy can't go around trying to catch a criminal without going incognito. Sorry."

"Well, for a policeman, you have a surprisingly good eye for detail, I'll give you that."

"Detective."

"Hm?"

"I'm a detective, not a policeman. And my name _is_ Alfred, by the way. I didn't lie about that." Alfred tipped his hat at Arthur, picking up his briefcase. "And this bird has flown. Maybe I'll see you 'round, Arthur."

"Perhaps." The Englishman met his eyes then, an odd little smile on his face, and Alfred nearly shivered from the intensity of that green gaze. He tried to match it with equal ferocity, and they both looked away from each other at the same time.

Alfred turned around, opening the front door of the hotel. "Bye."

"Goodbye."

…

He figured that would be the last he ever saw of Arthur, since he didn't go back to that hotel after that night. The case was wrapped up surprisingly quickly as well, and only a couple weeks later, Alfred was packing up his stuff to head back home to New York. He looked out the window of his hotel room and smirked at the oppressive, gray clouds that hovered over London, almost like the city was sad he'd be leaving soon. That made him smile a little, since he knew he'd miss this city.

Alfred headed down to the lobby to grab a newspaper, and he decided to flip through it in one of the armchairs. There was an article about the jewel heist, mentioning that an American detective had been the one to crack the case, but it didn't mention him by name, just as he had asked. Alfred smiled as he read it, glad that it had received a little bit of attention. He was just turning the page to another article when he heard a voice at the receptionist's desk.

"Mr. Jones?"

He looked up, and saw the receptionist holding the phone receiver out to him. "There's a man on the line for you."

Alfred took the phone from her with a smile. "Thank you, sweetie." He put the phone up to his ear. "Yeah, Jones speaking. Can I help you?"

"Good, you haven't left your hotel yet."

"Chief? What's going on?"

It was the police chief he had worked with on the case. "There's something I need you to come down to the station for. Nothing bad, but I can't talk about it over the phone."

"Okay, fine. I'll be right over."

"There should be a cab waiting out front for you by now."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Well, you sure aren't kidding around. Let me grab my coat and I'll be there soon."

When he arrived at the police station, he was escorted to the chief's office. The older man was seated behind his desk and gestured for Alfred to sit down at one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. Once Alfred was situated, crossing his legs and looking at him quizzically, the chief spoke up.

"I have a proposition for you. It will sound a little strange at first, but I'd like you to hear me out."

"Um, okay. You know, you're not making this sound like a good thing."

The chief rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I know. It's just something I don't think you'll be too happy to hear right off the bat."

"Well, spill the beans. I'm listening."

"This entire case, the one you've been working on with us, has been nothing but a series of tests."

"Excuse me?"

"Let me explain." He clasped his hands and placed them on the desk. "I'm not just a regular police chief. I'm the head of an international network of detectives like you. From France to Australia, we've got people working for us all across the world trying to catch criminals, including those who flee one country to seek refuge in another. Our main base is here in London, where we have men and women from each country as representatives for the team of detectives in their country. Now, the head of our American branch passed away recently, and-"

"Lemme guess, you need a new guy to take his place, preferably me. No thanks, I don't want a desk job." Alfred was about to stand up and leave when the chief laughed and shook his head.

"You misunderstand me. This won't be a desk job. Our American leader was killed on the job, trying to solve a case we're still working on. Apparently, there are a few assassins in England that even we don't know about. So, you see, our employees get to venture out into the world to work on cases, especially the elite ones. Here, let me call one of them over." He cleared his throat. "Kirkland, are you busy?"

A muffled voice came from behind one of the doors branching off of the chief's office. "I'm not doing anything urgent, no."

"Could you come in here for a moment?"

"Of course, sir." Alfred heard footsteps from the other side of the door, which swung open to reveal a young man dressed in a formal suit and tie. The man stepped into the room. "What is it, chief?"

Alfred recognized the voice immediately and whipped his head around. "You-?!"

"Yes, me." Arthur shrugged and turned to the chief. "Let me guess, I'm here as an example."

"Yes, among other things. Please, sit down." The other man sat down next to Alfred and the chief gestured towards him. "I'm sure you met Arthur the other night, since you accomplished the task we had set out for you with him. He's the one currently in charge of our English branch."

Alfred tried to stop himself from showing his anger. So it was okay to get him to sleep with someone just as a test? That didn't really fly with him. But when he opened his mouth to speak, Arthur shot him a secretive glance, as if he knew something neither Alfred nor the chief knew. What was that supposed to mean? Curious as to what that was all about, Alfred looked back and forth between the chief and Arthur, and saw a glimmer of interest in Arthur's eyes. Well, maybe if he got to work alongside Arthur…

"How much do I get paid?"

"Well, you'll start at two hundred thousand pounds a year, and that doesn't include living expenses."

"Wait, you'll pay my rent?"

The chief nodded. "Provided you choose where to live from a list of pre-approved residences. You'll be living in London if you accept the job, I should inform you of that."

Alfred nodded. This was starting to sound like a pretty good deal, but still… "What's the catch?"

"The only thing you might consider is that you'll be sent on the most high-risk cases, since you've proven your worth to us. Oh, and you'll be sent out as a decoy, like Arthur has been these past few nights, since you're quite good at making a new identity and staying in character."

"Still not seeing any catch here, chief."

The man smiled. "Not afraid of a little danger, are you? Well, that's a good thing." He thought for a moment. "The only other thing I can think of is that you'll have to work with the heads of the other branches, and I'll warn you now, they can be a little… difficult, to put it nicely. Especially if they decide they don't like you."

Alfred shrugged. "Hey, it's hard not to love me, so I'm fine with that. This whole thing sounds pretty good to me. But why'd you pick me, anyways?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? We need someone who's good at what he does, brave enough to do the job, and charismatic enough to worm secrets out of people the easy way. You know, the officer who was disguised as the lounge singer-"

"She'll be working for me, I'm guessing."

"Indeed. She's one of our best, and even she couldn't tell you were an undercover detective until you whipped out the handcuffs. Of course, we didn't tell her what you look like, so that might have helped, but still."

Alfred smirked. "What can I say? I know how to act the part, no matter what the part is."

"I'll admit it, there were a few moments where even I was wondering if you were actually _the _Alfred F. Jones. You're quite convincing, I'll give you that much, even if you're a little cocky." Arthur kept his composed air, but he gave Alfred a sly look, and the American smirked. It seemed that Arthur was completely aware of that little double meaning behind his words.

"Why, thank you," he replied.

The chief looked at him expectantly. "Well, do you accept?"

Alfred shrugged. "Sure. Why not? I like London well enough to stick around, and this sounds like it'd be a lot of fun." He smiled at Arthur and then at the chief. "Got any cases for me right away?"

"Actually, yes. The same case your predecessor was working on before… well, you know. Oh, and you and Arthur will be working alongside each other, so I expect you two to get along. Go out for drinks, get to know each other properly."

"Okay, fine with me. What's it all about?"

"Well, I can't give you all the details right now, I'll give you an official briefing tomorrow. But let me say this much: it's a case of _royal_ magnitude."

"Ah, I get it." Alfred grinned. "Sounds like fun already. So, when do I get a place to live?"

The chief reached into his desk and pulled out a list. "Here. Go to these addresses and decide which you like best. I can arrange for your belongings to be shipped over here right away."

"Cool." Alfred took the list and looked it over. "These are some expensive sounding places."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, we've got a lot of money. Chief, are we done here?"

"I believe so. Arthur, be a gentleman and drive Alfred back to his hotel, will you?"

"Of course, sir."

…

The car ride was in a rather stiff silence that neither man broke as they sat stuck in traffic, inching forward bit by bit. Eventually, Arthur turned to face Alfred. "Oh, I couldn't really mention this earlier, but the chief has no idea about what happened the other night."

"Huh?"

"All he knows is that we talked and that you were good enough to get the information you needed out of me. Nothing else."

"Oh." Alfred let that sink in for a moment. "So he doesn't know…"

"Precisely."

"So that was all your idea?"

"Well, it helped that you played along."

"I see." Alfred smirked to himself. Well, so much for worrying about that. Now he really didn't have any regrets about taking the job.

When Arthur pulled up in front of his hotel, he wrote something down on a piece of paper and passed it to Alfred. "I had quite a bit of fun the other night. And since we're going to be working together on this next case, I do believe the chief is quite right about us keeping quite a healthy work relationship. Give me a call whenever you feel like it. And if you like, it can be my turn to show you a good time next."

Alfred opened the passenger door and slid out of the car, knowing he was probably blushing at least a bit. "I'll call, don't you worry."

Arthur winked at him and drove off, leaving Alfred standing there a little bit shell-shocked. Well, _that_ definitely wasn't what he was expecting, but it was nice. He looked at the slip of paper in his hand, seeing an address and a phone number. He shoved it into his pocket with a smirk.

It may not have been what he was expecting, but even though the thought that maybe he'd get a chance to be around Arthur again had never entered his mind, he found he didn't care one bit. He tilted the brim of his hat down, opening the door to his hotel and winking at the receptionist. Working with Arthur… Alfred had the feeling that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

_Yes, that may have been a bit of a Casablanca reference at the end. Hey, I love the classics! Anyways, thanks for reading. Drop me a review if you like, I always appreciate feedback._

_Oh yeah, and it's over nine thousand. Hell, it's over ten thousand._


End file.
